


Second Hand

by Arithanas



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the end of "The Devil Wears Prada" (2006), about how Emily received the Parisian clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Woldy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/gifts).



> Thank you for rekindle my love for this movie!

“You have a favor to ask of _me_?” Andrea’s gall was unbelievable.

“Yeah.” The happy sound of her voice couldn’t be drowned by the sound of the traffic. “The thing is, I have all these clothes from Paris… and I don't have any place to wear them… so I was wondering if you could take them off my hands.”

Emily was used to stifling her emotions. Miranda was the only person who ever chipped her armor, and Andy was not even close to her.

“Well, I don't know. It's a huge imposition.” For a second she had to fight the urge to tear up. It was just a second. “And I'll have to get them taken in. I mean, they'll drown me. But I suppose I could help you out. I will have Roy pick them up this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Em. I appreciate it.” Emily could hear how Andy took a deep breath. “Good luck.”

***

She meant to send Roy to retrieve the suitcases, and she did it, but just barely. The temptation to see Andy again was far too much.

The whole set of cases sat in her foyer  as she started to calm the famished feeling inside her with some small spoonsful of non-fat, sugar free yogurt, the only thing she could stomach before opening the cases and marveling at their contents. The image of Andy was in Emily's mind; it still marveled her how much Andy changed in one year. She blossomed like the late, little flower she was. It was a shame the brain under her beautiful hair was bound to undo everything she had achieved.

A shiver wracked Emily from head to toes, and she hurried to wash away the taste of the creamy yogurt with a mouthful of water.

To drag the cases to her room was a complete odyssey, the cast made her clumsy, horribly slow, but she found a way. She wanted to check the clothes that very night, just to surprise Miranda the next morning with a new, sophisticated Parisian wardrobe. Or maybe she shouldn't overdo it, maybe she just need one piece of luxury on her back; Miranda ought to know Emily had no  means to change her wardrobe in one go, and the least thing Emily wanted was to poke her unnecessarily. Better to keep a low profile while the new girl learns the ropes...

The first case was full to the top with velvet gowns, shirts of the richest silk, a shrug for cold nights, and two pieces of a cocktail dress all sequined from neck to brim in the most gorgeous carmine tone. Emily was sharp enough to know none were appropriate for the office; maybe she could use the sequined dress for the next charity event (was it in May or June?); there was time enough to take in the material and make it fit to Emily's slender frame. Her mind was busy groaning over the bill, but her eyes fell on the plastic bag filled with tissue paper, and curiosity took the best of her.

It was really nice that her small apartment was hers and hers alone, because her pleasured yelp at seeing the Damir Doma clutch bag was anything but human.  It was perfect for the dress, golden with some accent in what she took for fake rubies, until she checked the quality and noticed those were the real deal; the pleasure to touch such a treasure made her dizzy.

Either that or the lack of sugar... No, it was pleasure. She could recognize the difference.

Another case was opened once the joyful discovery dulled enough to let her think straight. Trousers, blouses, skirts, dresses... Cartier, Karan, Philo, Mulleavy... Andy, to Emily’s surprise, was so good at packing that the smaller case had the most items, a treasure trove of color and sensations: cotton, silk, crimplene, velvet, chiffon... All the materials were sumptuous, rich to the fingertips as a testimony of their high quality and superb manufacture.

Andy was right, where on Earth could she use those marvelous pieces? Was she to wear it at the dusty offices of a provincial newspaper, or the ugly offices of a journal of teen heartthrob news?

Emily felt the burn behind her lids, the unfamiliar sensation of unspent tears, and the unuttered question that could soothe her pain burned her lips like the butt of a midnight cigarette.

_Why did you leave, Andy? This was the work a million girls would kill for..._

She was tired. Emily was suddenly aware of the fatigue, wrapped around her shoulders like an angora shrug. It had been a long year, she lost Paris but at the same time she won an accomplice, a companion, just to lose her as soon as she was getting used to her presence.

The world was not fair, it never was.

With a sigh, Emily let her head fall among the pillows and the clothing, wishing that she didn't have to work early the next morning and face the pale and dull face of the blond girl at the other side of the office, who was an early bloomer, so eager to please, and so grateful for the opportunity; but, at the same time, so unprepared for Runway.

With closed eyes, Emily let her fingers roam among the whole lot of garments; they were not all so big, some of those could fit without any tailoring. She took a deep breath and pressed her face to a soft chenille cardigan. It was the smell, a sweet-yet-woody smell of French perfume. A perfume she had never smelled before, maybe some of the perfumes Andy was gifted while traveling at the side of Miranda Priestly. It was a bold combination; something was not right, that odor was not appropriate for Andy Sachs.

But it also seemed made for her. It smelt of perseverance and constancy.

The phone rang and Emily sat up in the bed, ready to answer because Miranda could need something, even at this hour of the night.

"Hello, Em," Andy’s voice greeted her. "How are you?"

"Drowning in a sea of fabric, that's how I am." Emily managed to sound both bored and despondent, even though it made her so happy to hear Andy's voice.

"It's good to hear you’re not letting yourself go." There was amusement and a little cynicism in her voice. "Was the bundle what you expected?"

"Oh, more or less. I even noticed the stench, Andy." Emily smiled on the phone. "Are you too busy to send these good clothes to the dry cleaners?"

"I’m just letting you take a whiff of Paris."

"How thoughtful! I owe the honor of your call to ...?"

“Roy left some clothes behind,” Andrea said, her voice ringed with seduction. "Some Sardá pieces, a couple of Erteszek... I know it's a huge imposition, but I want someone of your incredible style to decide if I should keep them, or give them to charity..."

And what use would any charity have for second hand lingerie?

“You are a big tease, Andrea Sachs,” Emily said, and relaxed in the sea of fabric, engulfed by the soft cloud of French perfume, “But I could do it, in exchange for another whiff of Paris…”

“Your generosity, Em, is unmatched.”

“Come here in your best Sardá so I could take them off.”

Her crystalline laugh taunted Emily from the other side of the phone.

 “Not today...” Andrea rejected the idea, but there was a hint of promise in her voice. “Tomorrow is a work day, but soon, Em.”

“As if…”

“First, you need to get rid of ten pounds or so.”

“Oh my god! I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“I meant the cast. Until next Saturday, then.”

There was silence on the line, but Emily was smiling among the fabrics. Suddenly, the world was several shades brighter. 

**Author's Note:**

> To my beta: Thank you, Laureen. This fic wouldn't be as nice without you.


End file.
